A childhood lost
by SlightlyElliot
Summary: Barney is finally arrested after being hunted by the CIA for six years and his son, Jesse is entrusted into Clint's care. But the boy seems to have a childhood far too like his own. The similarities unearth an awful lot of memories that Clint had fought to forget and can he pull it together to give Jesse the happy childhood he has missed out on for so long?
1. Chapter 1

After Barney is finally arrested after being hunted by the CIA for six years, things take a drastic turn for Clint. Barney's son, Jesse is entrusted into his care, but the boy seems to have a childhood far too like his own. The similarities begin to pull up an awful lot of memories that Clint had fought to forget, but can Clint pull it together to give Jesse the happy childhood he has missed out on, or will it all be too much?

Warning- mentions of child abuse and some language.

The room was simple. A plain, white bed with a metal frame stood in the left hand corner and beside it a chest of draws which Clint presumed were empty. The room had no windows to the outside; the carpet was a soft shade of light blue and the walls were white. It seemed as if someone had at least made an effort to make the room seem a little more homely, but really it reminded Clint of a hospital room. The door was situated on the right hand side opposite the bed, next to a long window which enabled the person on the outside to be unseen whilst they looked in.

Jesse Barton sat on the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off the side and not reaching the floor. He wore a hospital gown that was far too big and hung across his skinny shoulders like a fabric bin bag. He twisted his fingers and chewed his knuckles as he glanced around anxiously.

Phil glanced at Jesse, and then Clint, amused that the later was unconsciously copying his nephew's nervous ticks. "You know, you really don't have to do this." He said calmly.

Clint didn't even take his eyes of the boy, just raised his eyebrows. "What and let social services take over? You know how that seems to work out for the Barton family." He let out an uneasy breath. "How much do I tell him? I don't want to lie."

"If you mean to carry out what you intend to do, there's no use hiding anything you wouldn't hide from Sam. Just break it in easy- he's only a kid."

Clint nodded and smoothed out imaginary creases in his jeans. He picked up the plastic bag Natasha had told him to bring, and entered the room.

Jesse's head darted towards the door and he immediately turned ten times more fearful. Quickly, he lowered his head to the floor and seemed to try to make himself as small as possible.

Clint didn't think he'd been so nervous in his entire life.

"Hey" He said uncertainly, sitting carefully on the bed. Almost subconsciously, the boy inched further away.

Jesse's hair was fairly long and shaggy, almost as if he was going for the Boromir look. (Clint was an archer- therefore obviously a Lord of the Rings fan). His eyes were hidden by his bangs, but the shadow of a bruise on his right cheekbone defiantly wasn't. Clint's stomach twisted unpleasantly.

"So I guess this must be pretty scary." He continued.

"No sir, I'm not scared." Jesse's voice was quiet and surprisingly low, like the voice of someone who spent his time trying his very best not to be heard.

"I'm an agent of SHIELD. My name's Clint Barton- but you can call me Clint."

Jesse's head jerked up sharply. Clint got a better view of his face- including his blue eyes, the cut on his lip and the scrape along his chin. He felt the goose bumps rise along his arms.

For the briefest of moments Jesse looked confused, but then sculptured his face into a perfect picture of blankness which could have fooled the toughest interrogator, and would have fooled Clint too if he hadn't spent the first 16 years of his life perfecting the very same expression.

Clint took a deep breath. "And I'm Barney's brother. I'm your uncle."

This time there was no mask at all- Jesse looked openly afraid. His breathe quickened and he started itching away again. Clint started to feel uneasy too, as if the sizable room was getting smaller. Very suddenly, he needed to get out.

"Hey, you must be hungry." He said.

"No sir." Jesse mumbled. He was so quiet Clint expected he wouldn't have heard him at all, if not for his aids.

"Well I'm gonna go get something to eat. Do you like cake? I can bring you some back if you want."

"I don't mind, sir."

"Well I'll get you something." Clint lifted the plastic bag onto the bed, and said, "I brought you some clothes- can you get changed by the time I get back?"

Jesse eyed the bag with open apprehension, but seemed to decide that whatever was inside couldn't be any worse than what Clint would do to him if he disobeyed, and nodded.

Clint tried to pretend he hadn't noticed this, and smiled. "Cool- I'll be back in a minuet."

Once outside the room, he slid down the opposite wall until he was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them and hid his face. Phil was by his side immediately, squeezing the back of his neck comfortingly. "You did well, kid – that was good." Phil reassured him.

Clint let out a breath that could have been mistaken for a sob, and ran his hand down his face. "Fuck Phil. _Fuck_. It's not fair- he's just a kid! I'm gonna kill Barney, I swear. He's just as bad as dad."

Phil realised that Clint was actually very shaken up- he only ever spoke of his father if he was either delirious or on an awful lot of painkillers.

"I know." Phil said, "I know. But we can help him now, right? Now he's gonna be ok."

Jesse had changed out of the hospital gown and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt by the time Clint, who was bearing cake, returned. The boy was sitting on the side of the bed again, swinging his legs in what could have been mistaken for a picture of ease if it wasn't for him gnawing at his nails.

"I brought cake- and orange juice, do you like orange juice?"

Jesse stopped wrecking his cuticles to say, "I don't mind sir," and then proceeded again. Clint sat on the bed and handed him the cake. He set the glass of orange juice on the chest of draws.

Jesse started to eat, and Clint crossed his legs and rested his elbows on his knees, hoping that if he seemed at ease Jesse would relax. It didn't seem to work.

Jesse was far to skinny. The t-shirt hung over him as baggy as the hospital gown did, and his skin seemed stretched over certain parts of him, like his wrists and elbows. His were also to skinny and his knuckles seemed to stick out in almost an unnatural way. He was eating like he hadn't eaten in days.

Clint tore his eyes away and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So, you must be wondering what is going on."

"Yes sir." Clint was beginning to realise that Jesse seemed to agree with everything Clint said. He could have accused Jesse of being a girl, and he doubted he would have argued.

"Well, have you heard of the CIA?"

There was a pause. "Yes sir."

"I'm not going to tell you off if you don't." Clint said softly.

Another pause. "I haven't heard of the CIA, sorry sir."

"The CIA is an American secret service. Barney, your dad, joined in 2005, worked there for a year and seemed to get on very well. But then he left suddenly in the fall of 2007. The CIA thought nothing of it until a while later, when a selection of their secret files were starting to be found in the hands of various other… organizations. They investigated and what they found lead them to Barney, who it turns out had been collecting the files during the two years at he worked there, and then sold them to the other side once he left."

Jesse frowned. Clint was surprised he didn't seem to look at all alarmed by all this new information. "How come it took so long for dad to be arrested?" The boy asked.

"Barney was good at keeping under the radar. He didn't use a cell phone, nor seemed to have a bank account. In the end the CIA found him from CTTV cameras and witness accounts."

Jesse chewed his thumb. "I suppose we did move around a lot. "

"How often did you move?"

Jesse turned thoughtful for a moment. "The longest stayin' in one place I can remember was three months. Other times it was just a couple of weeks. Sometimes something would happen and we'd have to leave real quick."

"Where would you stay?" Clint asked.

Suddenly words were tumbling out of Jesse's mouth, almost like they'd been waiting to be said for far too long. Clint remembered that when he had been very young, he'd simply never stop talking. But once he got to the age of about nine, he'd realised that people didn't actually care about what he had to say. Phil had managed to get him talking properly again, though he suspected that every once in a while, such as on long, tedious stake outs where Clint would complain for hours about the weather, how hard to ground was, how hungry and cold he was and so on, Phil maybe regretted it slightly.

"When I was little we used to have a camper van- that was cool. I had my own room, and sometimes, if dad was in a good mood or we had enough money and gas, he'd turn the heating on. But I think he had to sell it, and then we just had a little car for a couple of years. But we lost that after we had to leave quickly one time. Dad got in a bar fight and beat the other guy up pretty bad, so the police were after us. After that we just stayed in flats or motels, but it was cold and dark 'cause we didn't have money for the electricity."

"Did you like it?" Clint asked softly.

"No." Jesse said quietly. "I didn't like it at all." He had stopped chewing his nails now, and was twisting his hands instead.

Clint stared at him for a moment, and then said, "Do you want a hug?"

Jesse frowned at him. "A what?"

"A hug." Clint repeated, louder this time.

"What's wanna them?" Jesse said, looking bewildered.

Clint stared at him again. "Well it's kinda when… it's like… look, it'd be easier to show you."

Jesse immediately looked fearful, and started edging away again. "No, no I don't, I'm sorry, please don't-"

Clint reached over and scooped Jesse into his lap so that his right side was parallel to Clint's chest, and his head rested between his shoulder and his neck. Jesse stiffened, and balled his bony hands into fists, but didn't move or protest. Clint wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his hand comfortably up and down his back, making shushing noises like he would after Natasha had nightmares.

Once Jesse realised that Clint really wasn't going to hurt him, he relaxed.

"I'm sorry all these things happen to you." Clint said softly.

Jesse looked up at him, confused.

"You're only a kid, you shouldn't have to deal with all this. But listen, things are going to be ok now. I'm going to look after you."

Jesse didn't reply, but rubbed his eyes with his fist and dropped his head to Clint's shoulder, sighing. They didn't speak anymore, but Clint kept rubbing his back, and within the next half an hour, Jesse fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint stayed with Jesse for an hour or so, before going off around the Helicarrier on a hunt of a place to sleep. He ended up crashing out on the couch in Phil's office – Phil seemed to be doing nightshift of paperwork. (Clint didn't do paperwork- either Natasha or Phil ended up doing it for him or it simply wouldn't be done at all, resulting in an unfriendly visit from Fury. No one but Clint seemed to be happy with this arrangement, and it was possibly due to this extra paperwork that Phil was staying up for the night.)

He fell asleep to the soft glow of the computer screen, and the patter of computer keys. His awakening was somewhat less soothing.

"Barton, get your ass out of this room or I'll lock it with you still inside." Clint opened his eyes to find a very angry Phil Coulston looming over him holding a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and what looked like a pack of cards in the other.

Clint propped himself up on his elbows and grinned. "Oh hey Phil! You look just peachy this morning."

Phil's right eye twitched and he threw the cards into Clint's lap. "One of the shrinks told me to give this to you. Something about bonding with Jesse. Now- get out."

Clint stood up, his grin widening. "Sure Phil, thanks. Oh and is this for me?" He took Phil's coffee from his other hand before darting out the door, not before seeing Phil's face darken even more. "Thanks Phil!" He yelled before sprinting down the corridor, knowing full well that if Phil was feeling sprightly enough he would certainly consider running after Clint and hitting him round the head with said paperwork. (Yes, this had happened before, and damn, the old guy was fast).

Clint finished the coffee and ate a slice of toast in the canteen before heading to one of the payphones beside the bridge, reflecting that it may be a good idea to stay away from Phil for a while- he had looked pretty mad.

Clint dialled in the number before sliding down the wall and pulling his knees up to his chest. The phone rang twice before being picked up by a very angry Russian. "Do you not know what time it is?" Said Russian growled.

"Morning Tasha!" Clint replied, grinning to himself.

"Seven, Barton, seven in the morning, my day off, seven in the morning. When you get your ass back here, you are sleeping on the couch." When Natasha was either mad or tired, her accent got considerably stronger, and as she was both at the moment, it was almost hard to understand what she was saying. Needless to say, Clint found it very sexy.

Natasha sighed. "So, how's it going with Jesse?" Clint had told her everything after getting the phone call from Phil, who had been the one to tell Clint that not only had the CIA managed to arrest his brother, his brother had a son who had been handed over to SHIELD due to Jesse's connection to Clint, who was his next of kin. Aside from the occasional squabbles, SHIELD and the CIA could work quiet well together at times. And Clint told Natasha everything.

Clint's grin faded and he was silent for a moment. Although he was cheery enough before, even then Natasha had known something was wrong. "Clint?" She asked softly.

Clint swallowed. "I think he's just like me." He said unsteadily.

"What, Barney's like your dad?"

Clint squeezed his eyes shut. "Uh hu."

"You want me to come in later?" Natasha asked soothingly.

"Yes please."

"11 o'clock?"

"10 would be better."

"You want me to bring Sam? They're going to have to meet sooner or later."

Clint hesitated- his son was a little... intense, to say the least, and Clint didn't want to overwhelm Jesse. "Ok, but can you explain everything?"

"Sure. We could go out to lunch or something, if Phil will let you out."

"Nah, Phil was here all night, he's gone home now. But Fury won't care." Clint said, winding the phone cord round his finger.

"Ok, I'll be up here at 10, and we can talk then, ok?"

"Ok."

"Love you, see you soon."

"Love you too, bye." Clint let the cord go; watching is spin back into place as Natasha hung up the phone. He sat there for a moment, before setting off to find Jesse.

Jesse was already fully awake and dressed when Clint came into his room. He was also glad to see that the boy didn't look quite as scared as he normally did when Clint came in, and also looked a little less tired, implying that he had a better night sleep than usual. He bruises had darkened but his cut lip looked less swollen.

Clint smiled. "Hey. Do you like games?"

Jesse frowned. "I don't know. What sort of game?"

"Uh, you know card games?"

Jesse was silent for a moment, glancing up at the ceiling and chewing his thumb nail as he reminisced. "When I was little, there was this guy. Him and dad used to play cards. Poker, I think."

Clint sat on the bed cross legged and began shuffle the cards. He was pleased to see that Jesse didn't itch away, he just tensed slightly. "Who was the guy?"

"I don't know." Jesse said quickly.

Clint, not wanting to alarm him, didn't look up, but unfolded the instructions. "You know, you can tell me anything you want to. And you won't get in trouble for doing it- your dad can't hurt you now."

Jesse stared intently at the bed cover, thinking. "Where is dad now?"

Clint glanced up at him. "Well there's a court case soon, where lawyers will put together all the evidence and see how much he's done wrong. Then they'll put him in jail."

Jesse frowned. "That means I won't stay with him anymore."

"No."

"Then who will I stay with?" He asked, looking apprehensive.

Clint put down the instructions. "Well I have a wife called Natasha and a little boy called Sam- he's about your age, just a few months older. They're coming to see me today, and if you want you can meet them. Because I'm your uncle, the closest relative you have besides your dad, if you want to, you can come and live with me and be part of my family. But only if you want to."

Jesse was quiet for a moment. "What's a family?"

Clint looked surprised. "A family? Well, it's a group of people who look out for each other, I suppose. Often people think that its people who are related. But I think that as long as they like each other, and look after each other, they can be a family." Clint said, thinking of Phil. "Often they live in the same house. Usually they're like a mom and a dad and their children."

Jesse frowned. "So was dad my family?"

Clint chewed his lip. "Technically, yes. But if he didn't look after you, then I don't think he was a proper family. Do you think he looked after you?"

Jesse looked down at the bed covers again. "What would looking after someone mean?"

"It's like when you make sure someone is ok and happy, and doesn't get hurt. Or if they do, they help them get better."

Jesse was quiet for a while after this, and although Clint expected him to answer his question, he didn't. Though in reality, Clint already knew the answer. However, he was beginning to look rather overwhelmed, and Clint decided to change the subject.

"Hey," He said softly, causing Jesse to jump as he was torn from whatever he was thinking of. "Do you want to play the game?"

Jesse looked very wary. "Is it a game where there's a winner?"

Clint glanced over the instructions again. "No, I don't think so. I think it's just for fun. Why?"

"I don't like winning games. The person who loses might get angry." Jesse said quietly.

"Did you play games with your dad?" Clint asked.

Jesse chewed his lip. "Uh, we used to play cards, but not poker. I didn't like it. He did though, so I played anyway."

"Well this isn't a winning game. But even if it was, I promise I wouldn't get angry if I lost." Clint grinned, "Hey when I play games with Natasha, she nearly always wins! She's very clever. And sometimes I play games with Sam, but he normally gets bored unless it's Lego."

Jesse frowned. "What's Lego?"

"Lego is lots of plastic bricks that stick together. You make things out of them like houses and spaceships. It's cool. Anyway, do you want to play?"

Jesse chewed his lips. "Ok. But I might not be very good."

Clint grinned. "I'm sure you'll be fine." A sudden thought occurred to him, "Hey, can you read?"

Jesse nodded.

"OK, well tell me if you get stuck- it's not cheating. So this game is like a quiz, but there are no wrong answers. We each get half of these cards," Clint showed him some yellow backed cards. "And we ask each other the questions on them. It's fun, because then we get to know each other better." Clint divided out the cards and wriggled onto his stomach. Jesse stayed cross legged.

"Do you want me to start?" Clint said.

Jesse looked nervous. "Ok."

Clint smiled encouragingly. "So, first question. What is your favourite colour?"

Jesse looked bewildered, and Clint realised that he had probably never been asked that before.

"It means what colour do you like the look of best. So there's green, or blue, or pink, yellow, red…"

Jesse chewed his lips for a moment. "Light blue is a nice colour. Like the sky is early in the morning, before anyone else is awake."

Clint could see a darker side to this, and knew precisely who "anyone else" was, but smiled anyway. "Cool. My favourite colour is purple."

Jesse's eyes widened. "But that's a _girl's_ colour!"

Clint laughed. "No it's not! People say purple and pink are girl's colours, but really they're just colours, not girl's or boy's. When Sam was little, he liked pink" Clint grinned, "But don't tell him I said that."

Jesse smiled slightly, and Clint realised it was the first time he had seen him do so. He had a sudden urge to hug him again.

"Hey, you're cool, you know that Jesse?"

Jesse frowned. "No I'm not."

"Yeah, you are, honest."

Jesse shook his head adamantly. "No, you don't understand. I'm called lots of things, and cool defiantly isn't one of them."

Clint's heart twisted. "See, I bet your dad said that. And you know what? He was totally wrong. You're really cool Jesse, ignore whatever you dad used to call you. He can't call you anything now."

Jesse stared at Clint for a moment, before smiling slightly. Clint grinned back. "Hey, do you want another hug?"

Jesse looked wary. "Um, ok."

Clint sat up with his back against the wall, and pulled Jesse into his lap so that his back was resting on Clint's chest. Clint rested his chin on the top of Jesse's head, and wrapped his arms around him. "So. Next question?"

"What are your hobbies?" Jesse read surprisingly quickly and fluently. Clint was beginning to realise that he was pretty smart, despite the isolation he had endured.

Jesse looked up at Clint. "What's a hobby?"

"A hobby is something that you do in your free time voluntarily, without anyone saying you have to do it. Something you really enjoy doing. I really like archery."

Jesse frowned, looking up at Clint again. "What, like a bow and arrow?"

"Uh hu. It's really fun. And I never miss. What do you think you like doing?"

Jesse looked confused. "I don't think I have a hobby."

Clint rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, there's football, or baseball-"

"I didn't know any kids who could play with me."

"What about your dad?"

Jesse shook his head. "He didn't play anything with me other than cards."

"Um, well what about reading-"

"We didn't have any books."

"Or drawing-"

"Dad says drawing is prissy."

"Once again, he is wrong. He's just saying that because he's not very nice. I like drawing, but I'm not very good. Natasha is, though she doesn't do it a lot- and Natasha is most certainly not prissy."

Jesse was silent again, and Clint realised he was giving him a lot of new things to process.

"Hey what about singing-"

"I've never tried."

"I like singing, we could try it some time." Clint said. "Well there's climbing-"

Jesse grinned- like properly grinned. "Hey, I like climbing! No one can get me when I'm up high, and I can see anyone coming."

The dark side to this wasn't hidden at all. Clint wanted to punch Barney in the face and then shoot him with his bow.

"I really like climbing too, it's fun." Clint said, smiling slightly forcefully.

Jesse nodded, and seemed to be happy that they had both found something they both liked.

"OK, my next question is… tell me a secret." Clint said. As soon as the question had left his mouth, he realised his mistake. Jesse's face turned from almost happy to openly, full on fearful. The wording was far too similar to something Clint, and certainly Jesse too, had heard before. _Don't tell anyone about this. It's is __**our**__ secret, understand?_

"Hey." He said quietly. "Sometimes people say something is a secret when it's a bad thing, like when someone has done something mean to someone else, and they tell them not to tell anyone. But often a secret isn't a bad thing. It can be something like 'my favourite colour is actually pink'. A secret is really just something you haven't told anyone before. But if it is a bad secret, then it is better to tell someone, because then you will feel much, much better. So, why don't you tell me a secret, even if it is bad and scary."

Jesse was silent, and sank down into Clint's lap, wrapping his arms around Clint's strong arms that encircled him. Then he spoke. "But you've already worked it out, haven't you?" He whispered.

"Worked what out?

"What dad used to do to me."

Clint nodded. "Yes, I worked that out quite a long time ago. But now I'm going to tell you my secret." Clint turned Jesse around in his lap so that he was facing him, his arms supporting his back. "When I was little like you, my dad used to beat me up too. But you know what? I'm not scared of him anymore. And I'm going to help you to not be scared too."

Jesse sighed heavily. "I don't think that will happen."

"Do you know Phil Coulson?"

"The guy in the suit? Kinda scary but kind at the same time? Yeah, he's the one that brought me here after those other guys got me and dad. They were the CIA, I guess."

"Yes, they were the CIA. And yeah that's Phil. Well Phil found me when I was just 17. I was in a lot of trouble, and was scared all the time. But he taught me that dad couldn't hurt me anymore. See, Jesse, your dad used to be able to hurt you because you didn't have anyone to look after you. But I'm going to look after you now, and I won't let him hurt you. I promise."

Jesse's lip trembled and his leant forward so that his forehead was resting in Clint's chest, and his face was hidden from view. Clint wrapped his arms around him tight and rubbed his back, making shushing noises again. After a moment or two Jesse wriggled around so that his head was resting on Clint's shoulder, in the same position as he had been in before, and closed his eyes.

They stayed like that for about half an hour, before Clint suggested that as Jesse had been stuck in the same room for nearly two days now, they should go have a walk around.

Clint was a little worried about Jesse walking round the corridors of a top secret organisation, but he had brought Sam in many times before, and it wasn't an unusual sight to see the youngest Barton running around the Helicarrier, either parent in tow.

Clint took Jesse's hand- a gesture that seemed entirely new to Jesse and left him looking utterly bewildered. "It's what you do when you like someone. I'm also doing it so you don't get lost." Clint explained. Jesse didn't look entirely convinced, but shrugged.

Clint intended to head down the hanger where he hoped Natasha would be soon be arriving, but he ended up being barrelled into by a small figure with dirty blond hair who came up to his waist. Clint scowled. "Sam, _how_ many times? No running round corners! What if I had been Fury?"

Sam beamed at Clint. "Dad!" he launched himself into Clint's arms, wrapping his arms round Clint's neck and burying his face in his neck. "I haven't seen you in _ages_!"

Clint looked amused. "It's been about three days."

Sam leant back so that he could look his father in the eye. "And that is a long time! So many things have happened." He gestured widely, assured that Clint wouldn't let him fall.

At that point Natasha walked round the corner. Clint felt like a million tonnes had just been lifted off his shoulders, and relief flooded through him.

"If you're gonna do something gross, put me down." Sam demanded.

Clint obeyed, and set him on his feet. Natasha pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around him. Clint pushed his face into the space between her shoulder and neck. He breathed in deeply. Suddenly his heart was going far too fast, and he was shaking. He knew that the similarities between him and Jesse were massive, but he hadn't quite realised how much of an effect it had on him. It was like all his childhood had come rushing back, after Phil had helped him lock it all away. "It's ok." Natasha was saying quietly. "It's ok, I'm here, it's going to be ok." Clint was suddenly worried his was going to cry. He was shaking so much he thought he would fall over. But he also knew that he couldn't lose it in front of Jesse - if he was going to convince the boy that he would look after him, he had to act strong.

Clint took a few deep breathes, and let go. He forced on a smile. "So, this is Jesse." He smiled at the boy, who had taken refuge behind his legs. "And Jesse, this is Sam and Natasha." Sam waved and Natasha smiled at him kindly. "Hello Jesse. It's nice to meet you." Jesse retreated further behind Clint's legs. Internally, Natasha wondered if Clint had been like this before Phil came along.

"Are you guys' hungry?" She asked.

Sam grinned and clutched his stomach dramatically. "I'm _always_ hungry."

Clint grinned and ruffled his son's hair so it stuck up even more. "We should go get food. Ice cream sounds good, right boys?"

Natasha rolled her eyes, and wondered whether she was really ready to have _three_ 6 year olds in the house.

The Barton family took a quinjet down to Manhattan (Jesse spent the entire journey in awe, and Clint realised he may have slightly forgotten to tell him that he'd been staying in a massive, floating aircraft carrier thousands of feet up in the air for the last two days).

Clint landed on a SHIELD runway a few miles out from the city, where Natasha had parked the car.

It was a couple of minutes drive into the city, during which Jesse sat in the backseat, fiddling with his seatbelt and looking increasingly nervous. Clint glanced round and shot him a smile, which Jesse didn't return, he just stared out the window and chewed his lip.

They parked outside a little café that Clint and Natasha went to frequently, and took the table nearest the window. Clint sat on one side of the table with Jesse, and Natasha and Sam sat opposite.

"But I've already had breakfast." Jesse hissed to Clint once they sat down.

"Don't worry, if you're not hungry you can just have a drink, but I'm having a bacon butte because the food at base tastes like poo."

Jesse still looked wary, but smiled slightly, and Clint squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

After they had ordered (Natasha and Jesse had toast, and Sam had pie. Clint said he was a true Barton at heart), conversation got off at an easy rate. Sam filled Clint up on what he had missed- "I played football at school and scored like ten times. Well it was more like five, but it was totally cool dad. Ok it might have been more kinda one or two, but it was still awesome. We had pizza for dinner last night and it was sweet, but you missed it. Oh and mom says I can watch Harry Potter tonight. I wanted to watch the third one but if Jesse is coming round we can start from the beginning. Have you ever watched Harry Potter, Jesse? Well we can watch the first one tonight then. Or tomorrow, whenever. It's totally cool, it's about the Sophers Stone-"

"Philosophers." Clint corrected. (Yes, he was a Harry Potter fan as well as Lord of The Rings. He blamed Phil Coulson. The guy was a massive fanboy).

"That's basically what I said." Although Sam was being less intense than usual- so far there had been a minimal amount of jumping up and down and yelling- Clint could tell Jesse was beginning to get a bit overwhelmed. He caught Natasha's eye and saw that she had seen it too. "Why don't you wait outside while I play the bill?" She suggested.

Clint nodded. He and Jesse got up to leave. Sam went to run off as well, but Natasha grabbed his arm and took him to the counter.

Once they were outside the café, Clint lifted Jesse up into his arms, and Jesse buried his face in his shoulder. 'You ok?" he asked soothingly, rubbing his hand up and down Jesse's back.

"I don't understand." The boy said, his voice muffled.

"What do you mean?"

"You're all nice. No one had yelled at me, hit me or sworn. No one is angry, or told me to do something I don't want to do. I don't understand."

Clint wrapped his arms around him tighter. "Most families don't do those things. Only bad parents do that. See, me and Natasha are good parents. We like you and want to look after you, so we won't do those things, I promise. And it's absolutely your choice, but if you want to come and live with us, we won't do those things then either. But it's your choice. I won't get you to do anything you don't want to do."

Jesse sighed heavily. "It's just different, that's all."

Clint rubbed his back again. "I know."

On the way back Clint sat in the back with Jesse in his arms and Sam with his head on his lap. The latter had a habit of charging around non-stop before crashing out with on the nearest comfy surface (often one of his parents) with absolutely no warning. Once both the children were asleep, Clint and Natasha began to talk about what they were going to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha dropped Clint and Jesse, who was still asleep, off at the runway, and walked the two of them to the quinjet door. Jesse was in Clint's arms, his shagged hair drooping over his eyes. Natasha gave Clint a piecing stare. "Listen, if you need to talk just ring me, understand? No matter what time it is." He sighed, and nodded, kissing her goodbye. "See you soon."

The quinjet journey was uneventful, and once they were back on the Helicarrier Clint took Jesse back to his room before realising he too could do with somewhere to pass out. He considered his quarters in the Helicarrier, but decided that as he hadn't actually entered that room in about three months, and had a feeling that as he may have left a chicken curry in the fridge, Phil's office would be a better option.

He wasn't expecting the man to actually be in, but he had his own key anyway. However, the door was already open, and Phil was sat at the computer presumably doing paperwork, per usual. Clint collapsed onto the couch without a word, and stared at the ceiling.

"Hard day?" Phil asked sympathetically.

"It's just he's such a good kid. It's not fair." As this statement wasn't followed by the expected spiel of death threats aimed at his brother, Phil realised that Clint was actually quite upset.

As he walked over to the couch, Clint sat up, allowing Phil to sit beside him. Phil expected him to say something, but he remained silent. So he looped his arm around Clint's shoulders. To his surprise, Clint twisted around to rest his forehead on Phil's shoulder. His fists clenched so that his knuckles turned white, and he breathed out unsteadily through gritted teeth. Slowly, Phil twisted round so that he could wrap his arms fully around Clint's back, and pulled him closer. Clint shuddered and wrapped his arms round himself, almost as if he was trying to stop himself falling apart. It wasn't working.

Clint had a habit of burying all the things he couldn't deal with at the very back of his mind. Usually they then came up again whenever he and Phil had a particularly deep conversation, he dealt with it, and then it was fine. But his childhood was something that Clint had buried so deep Phil had only talked properly about it once- that was the only time Phil had seen Clint in a worse state than he was at the moment. He suspected that Clint and Natasha had talked about it more, as her childhood hadn't exactly been all rainbows and happiness either. But Clint now had the opportunity to see his situations reflected into someone else, and it seemed to be tearing him apart.

Phil rubbed his hand up and down Clint's back. "I'm so sorry this had to happen. I'm so sorry you have to go through it all again. But do you know how much better Jesse is going to get? You've taken him out of the hell he's been living in and you're showing him that things don't have to be that way. It's gonna be a hell of a ride, Clint, but eventually he's gonna be ok."

Clint took a couple more deep breathes, and then his breathing began to steady. At first Phil thought that Clint had just calmed down, but then he realised that he had actually fallen asleep. Phil waited until he definitely wasn't going to wake up if he was moved, before lying him down on his back. He dug out some blankets from his cupboard and put them on Clint. (Sometimes, after an especially arduous midnight paperwork session, Phil simply couldn't face the journey home, therefore had all the equipment required to crash out in his office)

And then he stormed off to visit Barney Barton.

Clint was roughly shaken awake by Phil, who was looking grave. "I have good news to tell you later, but firstly, we need to find Jesse."

Phil explained the situation as they hurried through the Helicarrier. "He had some kind of nightmare. The nurses tried to calm him down but he was freaking out, and then he ran for it. I don't even know how he got out, and we've got teams looking for him, but this place is massive and he could be anywhere."

Clint was dismayed. "Then how are we meant to find him?"

"I'm linked up to security." Phil gestured to the comm. in his ear. "They're keeping me posted. There's no sign of him on the training levels, or around the bridge. Do you have any idea where he could have gone?"

Clint shook his head- SHIELD was a massive, busy agency and he didn't even want to think of what could happen to one small, six year old boy… But suddenly, he was struck by an idea.

_I like climbing. No one can get me when I'm up high, and I can see anyone coming. _

So maybe he would have hidden somewhere high up. Most of SHIELD was just corridors and more corridors. Clint knew that the ceilings were low and aside from the ventilation system, there was nowhere Jesse would be able to hide. And it would have to be somewhere he had been before, and that narrowed down the possibilities drastically- "The hanger!" Clint clicked his fingers. "That's where he'll be…" His grin faded slowly. "You should stay here. And call off the search teams; they'll only make everything worse."

Phil nodded, but Clint was already running.

Generally, SHIELD didn't sleep. It floated all over the place so time zones were always debatable. Mostly, it just ran in shifts. However, it did seem to calm down after the sun set, and Clint was fairly certain that the hanger shouldn't be too busy. Yet he was still worried- aside from the training levels, Jesse couldn't have really chosen a more dangerous hiding place, and he would be far too easy to miss.

As Clint had expected, the hanger was nearly deserted. It was a long, wide area the length of at least one football pitch. The ceiling extended far above his head and the rafters were exposed. The area was unlit apart from a small area towards the exit, where a team were preparing a quinjet.

Having once been a freelance assassin, getting into the mind of another person in order to find their whereabouts wasn't anything unfamiliar to Clint. And bearing in mind their similarities, Clint found it all too easy to slip into Jesse's head. All he had to do was imagine six year old Clint would hide- and six year old Clint had hid a lot.

Jesse wouldn't go towards other people, and not venture too far from the entrance. He would hide in a corner as he could then be sure that no one was behind him. This left the far left corner, and then the left and right corners beside the entrance. The former had no way of getting up high as there were no footholds to get into the rafters. However, the corner to the left beside the entrance had empty fuel canisters which anyone agile enough could have managed to climb.

Clint didn't want to sneak up on Jesse, but he also knew that if he heard him coming, the boy would run. Not only might he actually get away, in the worse possible situation, he might fall. And Clint doubted he'd be able to catch him.

The fuel canisters were cylindrical and easy to climb. Clint was careful to stay out of sight from anyone above, and was as silent as, well, an assassin. It was a little harder once he reached the rafters; he had to climb onto the lowest one and walk along its length until he could swing or jump to the next.

He was beginning to wonder how on earth a six year old had managed to do this, and was starting to doubt that Jesse had hidden here at all, when he spotted a small, balled up figure maybe fifty metres away. Jesse had sat where the rafter attached to the hanger wall with his back pushed up against it, his knees pulled up to his chest and his head resting on his knees with his hood up- which surprised Clint, as how was he meant to see anyone coming if he wasn't even looking?

Clint climbed, jumped and swung until he was five metres away, before softly calling Jesse's name.

The effect was immediate and alarming, and Clint wondered briefly how similar his voice was to Barney's. Jesse startled and saw Clint standing on the same rafter as him. He rolled to his feet and was about to jump, before Clint grabbed him around the waist and pulled him into his body. They both collapsed onto the rafter, Clint landing on his back holding Jesse to his chest. Clint rolled into a sitting position, and pushed himself so that his back was to the wall just as Jesse had been sitting. Underneath his hand, Clint could feel the boy's heart beating impossibly fast, almost jumping out of his chest. His breathing was ragged and torn, and he shook as if his entire body was trembling and he couldn't control it. Clint didn't think he'd ever seen anyone so scared in his entire life, and Clint had seen people literally on the verge of death.

He didn't rub Jesse's back this time, he just held him as tightly and closely as possible, wrapping his arms around him. Jesse was sat sideways in his lap, but he curled impossibly small, as if he was trying to protect his head and chest.

"Hey…" Clint said soothingly. He was careful to keep his voice low and quiet. "Hey, it's ok. It's just me, Clint. I'm not going to hurt you. It's ok Jesse, it's ok."

It must have taken half an hour of encouragement, but Jesse slowly uncurled. To Clint's surprise, tears were streaming down Jesse's face, but in utter silence. Clint turned him round so that he way lying in his lap instead, with his face pressed into Clint's shirt. Jesse shook and his chest heaved as Clint rocked him slowly. "Everyone had nightmares, Jesse. But they're just dreams. I promise he can't hurt you anymore." Clint stroked his hair and hummed softly. This was something Natasha did to Clint when he had bad dreams, and it seemed to be working on Jesse too.

Clint waited until Jesse had stopped crying, and then said, "You'll feel better if you talk about it."

Jesse inhaled unsteadily couple of times. "You already know what it's about."

Clint hummed in agreement, but then said, "What it _was_ about- it's over now."

They waited a couple more minuets but didn't speak. Clint held Jesse just as tightly, but the boy twisted round so that his face wasn't pressed into Clint's chest, he just rested his forehead on his shoulder.

"Should we go back now?" Clint asked softly.

Jesse just stared up at Clint for a moment, and then nodded.

Climbing back down one handed was interesting, but not too difficult. Clint held Jesse with one hand, and then two once they were on the ground, so that his head rested on his shoulder again.

Phil was waiting outside Jesse's room, looking wary. He got up to meet Clint, stopping him before he could open Jesse's door. "I think it's time you got out of here."

Clint frowned. "What?"

Phil got a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. "I went to visit him after you fell asleep." Clint knew exactly who "he" was.

Clint shifted Jesse into one arm again, and took the paper. "What is this?"

"This is what he signed, saying that you now have complete and immediate care over Jesse. It took some persuasion." Phil smiled wryly.

"What does it mean?" Jesse mumbled.

Phil turned to the boy kindly. "It means that by the law, Barney isn't your dad anymore. Clint is. But only if you want him to be."

Jesse glanced up at Clint but didn't say anything, before nodding, and then just closing his eyes. Clint took this as an answer.

"If we were doing this by the book, there would be a hell of a lot more to do. But SHIELD have always been a little outside the law. Fury's happy with it, and so am I." Phil smiled softly. "It's late, but I think it's time you took him home."

Clint had always enjoyed flying in the dark. With the autopilot to guide them, and Jesse curled up in his lap, Clint had phoned Natasha to tell her what was happening. They had already discussed what would happen if Jesse came to live with them on the way back from the café, and Natasha had explained it to Sam. She would have the spare bed in Sam's room ready by the time they got back. Clint would take a SHIELD car to their house as Natasha couldn't leave Sam to come and pick them up. The house was a forty minute drive away from the runway, but with one of SHIELD's futuristic cars and Clint's interesting driving, he wagered he could make it in twenty five.

Clint landed the quinjet smoothly, and Jesse didn't stir. Clint didn't think he was fully asleep anyway, just dozing, though he hoped he would fall asleep on the car journey as he didn't want him to freak out when entering an unfamiliar house and it would be easier to explain everything to him properly in the morning.

Jesse however, slept fitfully on the twenty four minute car journey home. He would wake, blink blearily and then doze off again.

The Barton household was reached by taking a narrow lane off the main road. Although they were not far from New York City, the trees and fields disgusted the city outskirts as the open country side.

The house was a bungalow, but quite a big one. Jesse didn't stir as Clint lifted him from the car. The front door was unlocked and Natasha was standing in the kitchen, in her pyjamas. Clint put a finger to his lips and indicated to Jesse asleep in his arms; Natasha nodded and led him to Sam's room. They didn't turn on the lights as Clint tucked Jesse into the spare bed, and he sighed and wriggled further under the covers. Natasha pointed to a baby monitor on the bedside table and whispered, "I found it in the attic. It's so we can hear him if he wakes up."

Clint sighed contentedly and wrapped an arm loosely around her waist as they left the room. "You think of everything." Clint left the door ajar and put the hall light on so it would shine through, meaning that the room wouldn't be completely black.

For some reason Clint suddenly became exhausted. He stripped off his clothes down to his boxers, and collapsed into bed. Natasha joined him, and they lay facing each other, arms round each other's waists. "I've missed you." Clint whispered.

"I'm glad you're back." Natasha whispered back. And that was the last think he remembered before falling asleep.

Hello! Thanks for reading- this story quite isn't finished yet, I should be posting the last chapter either tomorrow or the day after, I just thought I should explain a few things. I understand Clint and Jesse haven't had any massive, deep heart too hearts, but Jesse deals with his problems like Clint, by burying it all away. This didn't work for Clint in the long run, and I might write another story set a bit later on where Jesse actually has to face his fears, not just push them away, though I'm not entirely sure yet. Either way, I won't be leaving this story alone; I might make a sequel or prequel.

I think Clint and Natasha are around 26-28. I didn't want to make them too old, but certainly didn't want to make them teen parents either. So one more chapter to go, please review, I'm open to suggestions. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

Clint and Natasha's double bed was situated slightly to the left of the centre of the room. If one was to stand in the doorway, he would see a large window on the left hand wall, and a skylight in the ceiling. To the right of the bed was a chest of draws, and a wardrobe at the foot of the bed with its back against the left hand wall. On the right hand wall, at shoulder height was a shelf filled with books in various different languages, and souvenirs of their more successful missions. On the chest of draws was a picture of Clint and Natasha in Egypt, ginning broadly with a magnificent backdrop of endless desert behind them. Two paintings were set on the wall beside each other; one of Russia at winter (Clint had often complained that Russia was in fact _always_ at winter) and the other was of an African sunset.

Clint lay on his back, his hands behind his head, reflecting that the room would be perfectly normal, if not for the gun beneath his pillow, the miniature armoury under the bed and the safe containing seven different sets of fake passports for each member of the family behind the Africa picture. And of course, the fact that during their visit to Egypt- indeed not long after the picture had been taken, if Clint remembered correctly-they had assassinated the leader of a trafficking ring. Clint smiled wryly- they really weren't the average family.

Natasha lay beside him on her side, one arm curled under her head and the other around her stomach. In the sunlight streaming from the window and the skylight, her red hair looked almost golden. It was shoulder length at the moment, as she had decided to cut it after the mission with Stark. She was dressed only in Clint's boxers and one of his old t-shirts that she had stolen years ago and adamantly refused to return, but Clint thought that she looked far more beautiful when she was like this than when she was all dressed up for a mission. Surprisingly, Natasha didn't like dressing up. She had once said that had enough time 'slutting' herself up for the Red Room, and now that she no longer had to, she wasn't going to.

Clint knew she was awake, and was about to say something when the door opened. Sam staggered in, yawning and rubbing his eyes with his fists. He clambered up onto the bed and collapsed face down on the pillow in between his parents.

Natasha smiled but didn't open her eyes. She rubbed his back with one hand and said, "Morning sweetie, did you sleep well?"

Sam just groaned, which Clint took as some form of yes.

Jesse then appeared beside the bed in a similar fashion, blinking blearily. "Where am I?" said shortly, rubbing his eyes. Clint was glad to see that the boy didn't look nervous, or even wary. In fact, he looked quite at ease, something that Clint had never seen him like before. His bruises had faded, almost disappeared completely, and his lip and chin had healed.

He smiled and lifted Jesse onto the bed, sitting him beside Sam. Jesse curled up slightly and pushed his head into Clint's chest. Clint rubbed Jesse's hair. "This is our house, where we live."

Jesse yawned. "You only live in one place?" He mumbled into Clint's shirt.

"Uh hu." Clint replied, closing his eyes. "We don't move around, we stay in one place."

Jesse sighed contentedly. "Weird." He murmured, before falling back to sleep. Natasha wriggled over so that she and Clint were touching shoulders, their children between them. Clint rested his head on Natasha's shoulder, and slept.

.

The peace only lasted for an hour or so before Sam got to hungry and started jumping up and down on the bed, therefore displacing its other occupants. After popular consensus from him and Clint, Natasha got up to make bacon and eggs. After Sam left to get dressed, Clint shook Jesse by the shoulder. "Hey," He said softly. "Time to get up." Jesse opened his eyes and blinked confusedly. "We're gonna have breakfast, are you hungry?" Clint asked. Jesse nodded and wriggled out of bed. Clint smiled and took his hand, leading him back to his room. Clint opened the door to find Sam fully dressed, jumping up and down on his bed. Clint eyed him sternly. "If you want to jump, you jump on the trampoline, understand?"

Sam grinned and jumped to the floor. "Sorry dad." He said, and bounded out of the room.

Jesse yawned and sat on the side of his bed whist Clint rummaged through Sam's draws. He was thinking about how they would soon have to go clothes shopping for Jesse- although him and Sam were basically the same age, Jesse was smaller- when he suddenly realised that Jesse must have had very little sleep, as they had got back at about one in the morning. "It's ok if you're tired." He said as he helped Jesse into his clothes. "After we've had breakfast, you can go back to sleep if you want." Jesse nodded.

Natasha was dishing up scrambled eggs as they walked into the kitchen. Clint led Jesse towards the table, before kissing her good morning, and starting to butter bread.

Breakfast was uneventful until Jesse literally fell asleep onto his plate. Sam giggled whist Clint lifted him up to put him back to bed, after scrubbing the butter off his face.

Jesse slept and Sam settled down the watch the traditional morning TV; everything seemed very relaxed and lethargic. Clint ended up watching it with him, and Natasha decided to get her paints out. This immediately distracted Sam, who went of to join in, leaving Clint to watch children's TV all on his own. He didn't turn it off.

The doorbell went, and it turned out to be Phil, who smirked at Clint, who was now watching Avatar the Last Airbender. Clint scowled and turned it off.

"So, how's it all going?" Phil asked. They sat down at the dinner table, watching Natasha paint whist Sam poured various different colours onto his paper and then proceeded to mix them together with his fist.

"He settled in alright last night- Sam, did he wake up?"

Sam stopped mixing and looked up at Clint, shaking his head. "Nope. He slept like a frog."

"Log." Clint corrected unconsciously, before turning back to Phil. "He came into out room this morning and was fine. He ate breakfast and then went back to bed. He looked pretty worn out."

Phil nodded slowly. "Well paperwork wise, it's mostly done. I need you to sign a few things but the main thing was getting Barney to sign. Normally it would be a lot more complicated, with investigations and such to prove that Barney was abusive," Phil glanced warily at Sam, but he was fully preoccupied with his artwork and didn't seem to be listening. "But Fury and I think we have all the evidence we need, especially given your family history." Clint was beginning to look uncomfortable, so Phil changed the subject. "Sam," He said, "How are you feeling about Jesse coming to live with you?"

Sam looked up, and scratched his nose thoughtfully, smearing a green-brown mess all across his face. "Oh it's gonna be totally awesome. I really wanted another brother and a younger one would be all whiney and annoying, but Jesse is pretty much the same age as me and not whiney at all. I get that he's all shy but mom explained it all and I'm gonna be empathetic and considerate." Phil smiled, knowing that this must have been an almost direct quote. "I'll look after him, he's gonna be alright now. But Phil I really have some important art work to do, so are you done with the questions?"

Clint smirked, and Phil nodded, smiling. "Yes I am, thanks Sam."

"No worries Phil." Sam replied, distracted by attaching what seemed to be curly yellow stems to the sticky brown mass in the centre of his page.

At that moment Jesse walked in, yawning but looking far more awake than he had earlier.

"Hey Jesse, feeling better?" Natasha asked.

"Yes, but I'm quite hungry now." Jesse replied, sitting beside Sam and eyeing his artwork with what could only be described as bewildered apprehension.

Clint realised that Jesse hadn't had dinner the night before, and said, "I can make you some more toast if you want. Or we could have ice cream?" Phil was amused to see that Clint looked to Natasha for permission.

Natasha raised her eyebrows at Clint. "Fine, but if you eat the ice cream now there won't be any for after dinner later. And it's only eleven thirty, so we're not making a habit of this."

Clint grinned and suddenly looked surprisingly like his six year old son. "Don't worry; we can make cake for later."

"How do you make cake?" Jesse asked curiously.

"Well it's got load of things like flour and eggs and sugar, and you're meant to mix them all in one at a time, but that takes ages and is boring, so me and dad put them all in at once an mix them a bit and put it in the oven and it's awesome." Sam explained ecstatically, all in one breath.

Phil smiled, and rose to leave. "Well," he said, "Everything seems to be fine here, so I'd better be off."

"Nooo Phil don't leave, mom said we can watch Harry Potter tonight, and we're having cake, and now we're having ice cream and-" Sam began but Natasha cut him off.

"You could always stay for dinner if you want, Phil. Or just for lunch." She suggested.

"There's plenty of ice cream for five-" Clint added, but Phil cut him off.

"No, really, I've got to go. Thanks for the offer, but we've got a whole gang of new recruits coming in tomorrow, and someone has to do the paper work." He smiled at them all. "Though I might drop round some other time. Tell me when you're watching Order of the Phoenix, that's my favourite one."

Clint smirked. "Here, I'll walk you out."

There were choruses of "Bye Phil!" as they headed for the front door, and Phil heard Sam explain to Jesse what Harry Potter was, and why it was far better than Star Wars.

Outside, Phil hesitated before getting in his car. "Hey, well done." He said.

Clint frowned. "What?"

"You did it. I have no idea how hard it must have been digging all those memories up, but you did it. Jesse's gonna be ok."

Clint grinned nervously, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I couldn't have done it without your help. And man, some other time you've got to tell me what you did to Barney to get him to sign."

Phil smirked, and Clint pulled him into a hug. "Seriously, thanks. And thanks for helping me too, all those years ago. I don't think I ever thanked you properly."

Phil pulled away, and clapped Clint on the shoulder. "Kid, you never had to." He climbed into his car, and before shutting the door yelled, "Order of the Phoenix! If you forget you'll be doing your own paper work for a month!"

Clint laughed and waved as Phil drove away. "I won't!" He yelled.

He waited until Phil's car was out of sight, before returning back to the house. He sat next to Natasha and wrapped his arm around her waist.

"What are you drawing?" Jesse asked Sam.

"Well, it was meant to be a rainbow sun, but when I mixed all the colours together they just turned brown." Sam replied sadly.

Jesse frowned for a moment, and then said, "I think you would have to keep all the colours separate. If you made it spirally, and gave each ring a different colour, I think it would work then. I can show you if you want."

Sam grinned, and almost subconsciously, Jesse grinned back. "Cool! Yeah, please." Sam said.

He got a new piece of paper and Jesse drew a wiggly circle on it, and then drew smaller rings inside. Natasha leaned into Clint's side, and he kissed the top of her head. Now he knew things would be alright.

.

.

.

Hello! OK, that's the last chapter of this story. I've had great fun writing it and I'm not going to leave the Barton family alone. I'm thinking about at least writing some sort of oneshot where the Avengers meet Jesse and Sam, and maybe something where Jesse is a bit older- at the moment he's just a scared little kid, but I'd like to develop his character a bit more, and to see him face his fears. Also I like the idea of a Clint based origin story. I might make it into three parts, early childhood, pre teen- teenager and then when Phil came along. But nothing's confirmed yet, and I have exams coming up so I probably won't be posting anything for two weeks or so.

So tell me what you think- too much hurt, too much comfort? Any ideas for what I should write next, any requests?

So thanks for reading- I didn't expect any response at all, but I've loved the reviews, thanks :D So you should be hearing from me soon. Adios!


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